


A Long Road

by mithrel



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blanket Permission, M/M, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-12
Updated: 2009-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:17:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and Arthur have sex after they’re almost killed, then Arthur denies that anything happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long Road

Merlin lay atop Arthur, panting, having managed to kill the sorcerer after Arthur without him noticing.

“What happened?” Arthur asked, bewildered, staring at the smoking remains.

Merlin shrugged uneasily, trying to get his adrenaline under control. “Maybe his spell backfired.”

“Maybe.” Arthur looked up at Merlin with a strange look on his face, and Merlin realised he was still lying on top of him. He moved to get up, but Arthur seized his face in his hands and kissed him.

Merlin pulled back, shocked, but Arthur kissed him again, and he decided, _hell with it._ He kissed him back.

Arthur was hard underneath him, and Merlin didn’t want to think about the fact that Arthur had nearly _died_ , of course it would affect him. Arthur bit at Merlin’s shoulder through his shirt and Merlin gasped and thrust down, and Arthur moaned and surged against him.

Arthur rolled them over so that Merlin was lying in the grass staring up at him, and fumbled his breeches open.

Merlin reached out to do the same, no longer wondering why this was happening, only thankful that it was.

There was no finesse to it, no art. It was desperate, frantic, instinctual. They simply ground against each other, panting and moaning.

Merlin came first, his hands gripping Arthur’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. Arthur followed him moments later and collapsed atop him.

Merlin reached out a hand to stroke Arthur’s hair and he jerked away violently. He got up off Merlin and put his breeches back on.

“Come on, we’ve got to go.”

Merlin sat up, confused. “Arthur…”

“We’ve _got to go!_ ” Arthur repeated, looking furious.

Merlin stood up and began rearranging his clothing. By the time he was done, Arthur was already a hundred yards down the road back to Camelot.

***

Merlin didn’t see Arthur again until the next day.

When he entered Arthur’s chambers Arthur was already dressed, which was unusual. He didn’t look up.

“We need to talk.”

Arthur looked at him then, his face giving nothing away. “There’s nothing to talk about. And,” he continued, expression darkening, “I need hardly remind you that a servant keeps his master’s confidences. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll be lucky if you’re only dismissed.”

Stung, Merlin didn’t reply.

“Since you’re here, you can muck out the stables, take my horse to the farrier, polish my armour and make sure that my cloak is mended properly this time.”

“Yes, _Sire_ ,” Merlin spat, and stalked out of the room.

***

Over the next few days, things were worse than when Merlin had first come to work for Arthur. Then he'd had a sort of cheerful arrogance, but he'd still seemed to be fond of Merlin, in an “I’m-the-Prince-of-Camelot-and-you’re-my-servant” sort of way. Now he seemed annoyed whenever Merlin showed up, and took pleasure in giving him the most physically demanding and disgusting jobs around the castle, most of which, Merlin was sure, weren’t part of his duties at all.

After more than a week of this treatment, after Arthur dismissed him Merlin went down to one of the taverns. He didn’t care if he always made a fool of himself when he drank; after the week he’d had he just wanted to forget.

He sat down at the bar and ordered a mug of cider. The barkeep plunked it down in front of him.

“Ye’re Prince Arthur’s servant, bain’t ye?” he asked him.

Merlin scowled. Apparently even here he couldn’t get away from Arthur. “Unfortunately.”

“I hear he’s been causin’ quite a stir,” the barkeep said, leaning conspiratorially towards him.

“Howso?” Merlin asked.

The barkeep looked around, then said, “Well, I probl’y oughtn’t t’say this, but I figger since yer his servant, it be alright.”

“Why, what’s going on?” Merlin inquired, truly curious now.”

“He’s been visitin’ the knockin’-shops ev'ry night this week,” the barkeep confided.

Merlin gaped at him. “What!?” Arthur had been visiting the brothels? What on Earth for?

The barkeep nodded, grinning, pleased at his reaction. “Never as hisself, o’ course, allus in disguise, but we know it’s him.” His grin widened. “S’pose ye get sick o’ servin’ girls after awhile an’ want summat more experienced, ay?” He nudged Merlin in the ribs.

Merlin nodded, finished his drink as quickly as he could, and left.

On the way home, he kept bumping into people. Arthur was visiting the brothels. He’d never done that before, as long as Merlin had known him. He’d never even committed any indiscretions with the serving girls, no matter what the barkeep might have implied.

So why was he suddenly going to them?

He knew the answer, of course. He was trying to forget what he’d done with Merlin.

Merlin himself was trying to forget it, for an entirely different reason. It had been a mistake, and Arthur was patently disgusted with him. He wondered why he didn’t dismiss him and get it over with.

Merlin lay down on his bed, trying not to think of the noises Arthur had made, or how he’d looked when he’d come.

***

The next evening found him in the dragon’s cave. He hadn’t actually promised Arthur not to tell anyone, although he knew Arthur expected it. He wasn’t about to go blabbing it all over Camelot, but he figured the dragon was a safe bet, chained under the castle as he was, with only Merlin ever visiting him. He didn’t need any questions answered, not really, although he’d like to know what to do about Arthur, so the dragon’s riddles wouldn’t bother him.

“And then he more or less threatened me with execution if I told anyone! And yesterday I find out he’s been visiting the brothels!”

The dragon chuckled.

Merlin glared up at him. “This isn’t funny!”

“What we have here, young warlock, is a classic case of denial.”

Merlin looked up at the dragon warily. “You really think so?”

The dragon nodded. “Be patient. He’ll come around.”

Merlin ascended the tunnels feeling slightly more hopeful.

***

The next morning he decided to try to talk to Arthur again. After he’d dressed him (and really, he was surprised Arthur let him do that, even though he stood rigid and stared straight ahead the entire time) he sat down in one of the chairs.

“Arthur?”

“What?!” Arthur snapped.

Merlin sighed. “Look, I _don’t_ want to pressure you, but we need to talk.”

Arthur’s face went stony. “I have nothing to say.”

You _kissed_ me!” Merlin burst out, fed up with Arthur’s evasions.

Arthur glowered at him. “I did no such thing! It was you!”

Maybe the dragon was right about it being denial. He shrugged, getting up. As he left, he said, “Have it your way. But I’m the only one you _can_ talk about this with, unless you want to cut someone’s tongue out.”

***

The next day Arthur went hunting, and for some reason, took Merlin with him. Merlin would have expected him to want to get as far away from him as possible.

They rode along in uncomfortable silence for awhile. As they entered a clearing, a figure in robes stepped from the trees, held out a hand toward Arthur and snarled.

Arthur fell from his horse. Merlin had time to think _not again_ before a fireball shot toward Arthur.

Without thinking about it, Merlin flung up a shield around Arthur. The fire slid away harmlessly, and Arthur stared at him in shock.

The next thing Merlin knew, blackness claimed him.

***

He came back to himself slowly. Someone was sitting with him, holding his hand, and he could have sworn he just felt lips on his forehead. He opened his eyes to see not Gwen but Arthur.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, brain still foggy.

“Making sure you’re alright, idiot. You nearly got yourself killed against that sorcerer. I got him when he was distracted, but he threw something at you.” The concern disguised as derision in Arthur’s voice as he answered was so normal that Merlin almost forgot everything else. But…

The sorcerer. Arthur _knew!_

He sat bolt upright, only to be pushed back down again.

“Keep _still,_ you idiot, you’ll hurt yourself!”

“Arthur…” he started, desperate to explain, but not sure how to begin.

“You’ve been keeping things from me,” and now his voice was back to the barely-repressed anger he’d been showing all week.

“Arthur, I…”

“ _How long?_ ” Arthur demanded.

Merlin didn’t pretend not to know what he meant. “I was born with magic,” he said miserably.

“You should have told me,” Arthur said quietly, and the betrayal in his voice broke Merlin’s heart.

“I wanted to, Arthur, really I did, but I was afraid–”

“Don’t you _trust_ me?” Arthur broke in.

Merlin felt the anger at Arthur stirring again. “You’re one to talk! ‘I need hardly remind you that a servant keeps his master’s confidences. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll be lucky if you’re only dismissed.’”

Arthur froze, then left without another word.

Merlin put a pillow over his face and groaned, trying to think up worse ways he could have handled that.

***

It took several days for Merlin to recover from whatever the sorcerer had done to him. When he was better, he went to Arthur’s chambers. At least now Arthur didn’t have to worry about him blabbing. Just turn him over to Uther and he wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

He entered the room expecting to be arrested for sorcery. But Arthur was alone, finishing his breakfast.

He stood awkwardly, unsure what to say.

It was Arthur who broke the silence. “Look, I’m sorry. You couldn’t help being born a sorcerer, any more than I could being born a prince. But you still should have told me.”

Merlin nodded, acknowledging the point, then asked quietly, “And if I also was born liking men?”

Arthur looked at him coldly. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

As Merlin got to work, he sighed. He supposed he should be grateful that Arthur evidently wasn’t going to tell his father, but all the lies and secrets and denials that still hung between them weighed almost physically on his shoulders.

***

Two days later, as Merlin cleaned out the fireplace, Arthur suddenly asked, “Do you still want to talk?”

“Sure,” Merlin said warily, sitting back on his heels.

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been a prat since…but, Jesus, Merlin, first I sleep with a man, and then I find out he’s a sorcerer?!”

“I’m sorry I made you feel unclean,” Merlin said bitterly.

“No!” Arthur said immediately, then caught himself. “I…I mean…I don’t know what I mean. _Why?_ ”

Merlin smiled slightly, the first smile he’d worn in weeks. “Because you’re Arthur. Because you’re going to be a great king. Because I…care about you. A lot. And I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“I’m not going to dismiss you,” Arthur said quietly.

“Afraid I’ll blackmail you?” Merlin snapped without thinking.

“What?” Arthur demanded, looking appalled. “No! Dammit, Merlin, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“Besides, you know my secret as well,” Merlin pointed out.

Arthur nodded. “So even if we didn’t trust each other, we can’t risk it.”

“Do you?” Merlin asked. At Arthur’s quizzical look, he clarified. “Trust me?”

Arthur sighed. “Yes, I do. You may be a sorcerer, but you’ve never hurt me.”

Merlin stood up slowly, and approached Arthur where he leaned near the window. Arthur tensed, but didn’t move. Merlin leaned in, slowly, and kissed him. Arthur froze under the light pressure, then slowly kissed back before pulling away.

“Like I said, I don’t want to pressure you. I’ll still be here no matter what you decide,” Merlin said.

“Thanks,” Arthur said, and smiled softly at him.

Merlin smiled back.


End file.
